


Goodnight, Makkachin

by novellanouveau



Series: Sleepless Nights [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cuddling, Falling In Love, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:02:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novellanouveau/pseuds/novellanouveau
Summary: Makkachin is missing, and where else could he be but in the bed of one Yuuri Katsuki, Serial Dog Lover™.





	

Yuuri blearily cracked open one eye. Someone was knocking at his door. He flung out an arm, reaching blindly for his phone: the screen glared at him in the dark, reading  _ 01:04 _ am. It could only be one person.

 

The door creaked open and Yuuri instinctively burrowed deeper under the covers. If Viktor thought he was sleeping he would surely slip back out again, hopeful offers of sleepovers forgotten. He could already feel himself blushing, and hid his face in Makkachin’s fur. Viktor was naturally an overwhelming presence, but  _ here _ , in his childhood bedroom, a bundle of Viktor’s own posters stashed guiltily in his wardrobe . . . It was too much to bear.

 

“Yuuri, have you seen Makkachin?” Viktor’s voice sounded sleepy. “I haven’t seen him since dinner time and I am beginning to worry.”

At the sound of his master’s voice, Makkachin wriggled free from his arms and bounded excitedly from the bed. Yuuri rose guiltily, and flicked on his bedside lamp to see Viktor snag the wiggling dog against his chest.

“Ah! There you are, naughty doggy. Sneaking into little Yuuri’s bed. Have you forgotten me so easily, malyutka?”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri cringed, his hands falling empty into his lap. “I didn’t mean to make you worry. Have you been looking long?”

“Only once I realised it was well past Makkachin’s bedtime. But it seems I shouldn’t have worried.” Viktor waggled a finger teasingly. “My two best boys, having a slumber party without me? I don’t know how I will recover!” 

Yuuri’s mouth hung open, speechless. “I -” He broke off, and dropped his gaze, at a loss for what to say. Viktor had a knack for that, for stealing the breath from his lungs.

 

Viktor made a soft sound, and when Yuuri finally dared look up he was holding Vicchan’s picture. 

“He is yours?”

Yuuri was grateful when Makkachin chose that moment to scramble into his lap. He knit his fingers through the soft fur and nodded.

“Y-yeah. His name is Vicchan.”

“Vicchan,” Viktor repeated softly. One delicate finger pressed against the shiny black nose. “I like this name.” He turned abruptly, and sunk to his knees, still clutching the picture frame. “Do you see, Makkachin?” He beamed. “He is just like you!” Makkachin’s tale wagged eagerly. “Isn’t he a handsome boy? I am sure you would have been the best of friends, just like Yuuri and me!”

Yuuri stared down at Makkachin, trying in vain to hide his blush. Viktor gently placed Vicchan’s picture on the bedside cabinet, and oh-so-carefully sat down beside him. One long-fingered hand settled on Makkachin’s head, his littlest finger skimming the back of Yuuri’s hand, as if by accident. Yuuri fought a shiver.

“Makkachin, don’t you think that it is fate that brought us to Yuuri? To make him strong again, and to keep him company. I think that, just maybe, this little doggy might have helped us find each other.”

  
  


Yuuri turned his face away, feeling suddenly exposed.

“I can understand.” Viktor gently took hold of his chin, and Yuuri’s breath left him in a rush. “You have been lonely. There’s no shame in that,” he said softly, when Yuuri refused to meet his eyes. “Everybody gets lonely sometimes.”

“Even you?” 

Viktor faltered, and Yuuri instantly regretted the question. 

“Yes,” he answered finally, and his voice had a far-away sound to it. “Even me.” After a pause, Viktor brightened. “Why do you think I have Makkachin?”

“To keep you company?” Yuuri asked dumbly. It seemed absurd that somebody like Viktor could ever feel lonely. Not Viktor, who was beautiful, and kind, and successful beyond measure.

“Of course, silly! Do you think that because I am famous, I never get lonely?”

Yuuri abruptly felt very foolish. “I guess not,” he admitted.

Viktor laughed softly. “You are a very clever boy, Yuuri, but sometimes I think you are not so smart.”

 

Viktor’s eyes had grown soft, almost wistful.

“Everybody needs a little closeness, Yuuri. Somebody to share pork cutlet bowls with, or to curl up together at nighttime. Haven’t you ever wanted that?”

Yuuri could feel Viktor’s breath on his face, a teasing touch with every word. He couldn’t bear to look at him. Viktor’s hand slid to his cheek, his thumb soothing circles against the flushed skin. “That’s why I’m grateful to have found you, porosenok.”

“Don’t call me that,” Yuuri blurted.

“Ah, have I embarrassed you? I’m sorry, little one.”

 

Yuuri screwed his eyes shut, overcome with embarrassment.

“Please don’t close your eyes,” Viktor’s voice was little more than a whisper. “I want to see you.”

_ You’re staring at me _ , Yuuri wanted to point out. He swallowed, and reluctantly opened his eyes. Viktor was looking at him with such unabashed softness Yuuri felt a painful lump rise in his throat.

“We have become great friends, I think. Don’t you agree, Yuuri?” Viktor’s thumb skimmed Yuuri’s bottom lip, and he nodded dumbly. “And I hope that we will only grow closer over time.”

“I want that,” Yuuri choked out.

 

Viktor nodded absently; his heavy lidded gaze on Yuuri’s mouth. 

“I think that I would like to kiss you now. Can I kiss you, malyutka?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “Viktor -” He released a shuddering breath. “Please.  _ Yes _ .”

 

His mouth twitched with the faintest of smiles, and then Viktor Nikiforov was kissing him. His mouth was maddeningly soft, tentative against his own, and Yuuri would have never imagined his kiss to taste so innocent. Viktor slipped a hand into his hair, still teasing with too soft kisses, and Yuuri couldn’t restrain an impatient noise as he grabbed a fistful of Viktor’s pyjama shirt, dragging him closer. Disgruntled, Makkachin slipped from his lap, curling himself into the blankets.

“Yuuri -” Viktor gasped, breaking away. Yuuri dimly noted the colour riding high on his cheeks, the glassy shine in his eyes. “Bozhe moy!”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri panted, guiltily releasing his shirt. “Too much?”

Viktor shook his head, casting silver hair into his amused looking eyes. “No, no, no. I am just surprised. You are so wonderfully eager. I thought you would shy away from my touch, as you have done before. But - you continue to surprise me, Yuuri.”

Yuuri failed to suppress a grin. “You too.”

Viktor snorted, brushing his hair from his eyes. “But it is late,” he said remorsefully, “and your coach will be most displeased if you are tired in the morning.”

“Oh,” Yuuri nodded. “Of course, you have to go.”

Viktor smirked, taking hold of his chin once more. “No, no, no,” he said again, and pressed a kiss, quick and chaste, to his lips. “If Makkachin stays then so must I. We are a - how you say - package deal.”

 

Yuuri watched, speechless, as Viktor sprawled back under the covers, tugging Makkachin against his side. He peered up at him from the pillow, one pale eye glinting playfully.

“Turn off the light, sleepy head.”

Yuuri hastily complied, and when they were cast in darkness, one of Viktor’s arms wound lazily around his middle.

“Come sleep,” he mumbled, a familiar petulance creeping into his voice.

Yuuri lay down stiffly, feeling horribly uncertain, but then Viktor folded the length of himself down his back, the cold tip of his nose resting in his hair, and Yuuri slowly let himself relax.

“Mmm,” he mumbled contentedly, squeezing his middle. “You are so warm.”

Yuuri hastily tugged down his pyjama shirt, covering his soft stomach, but Viktor followed him, and splayed a burning touch over the soft skin of his side.

“So warm,” he mumbled around a yawn. “Goodnight, Yuuri.”

Staring into the dark, as though transfixed, Yuuri fumbled to find Viktor’s hand under the covers, and folded their fingers together. “Goodnight, Viktor.”

“Goodnight, Makkachin.” A pause, and then a deliberate prod in his back.

“Goodnight, Makkachin.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is almost too sweet for its own good.  
> Find me on [tumblr!](http://regulargumball.tumblr.com/)


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